


come on over (and mend my heart)

by shewhoisntnamed44



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam is a mechanic au, Angst for sure, Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Slow Burn, adam parrish is my son, bois have zero chill, everyone is bad at feelings, highly self indulgent, op loves declan, pynch - Freeform, shifting povs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 03:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18563218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhoisntnamed44/pseuds/shewhoisntnamed44
Summary: Ronan's leaving when Adam regains some form of common sense."You don't want to murder me, right?" he asks and immediately wonders if that phrasing is appropriate.Ronan smiles and something in Adam's brain short circuits."I'll be here with my machete at 2."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a Jame's Bay song- Wanderlust.

The mirror cracks and falls as Robert Parrish slams his son against the wall.  
Adam's disoriented, he doesn't know what he's done this time to deserve it. He doesn't know and he doesn't _care_. His body is foreign, he's not the one wearing it's skin, not right now.

He's everywhere but this moment.

He's next to Blue as she runs a hand through his hair and smiles at him, wearing one of her extravagant dresses. He's eating pizza, a laugh rumbling in his throat and spilling out after so long. He's in front of his professor, who's kind and sweet and looking at him and saying words like _potential_ and _smart_ and _Ivy League_.

He's anywhere but here.

He raises a finger to his ear because it fucking hurts and sees blood, frighteningly bright. The red is stark, it cuts.

"Look at me," Robert Parrish's voice seeps within everything. Burrows itself in Adam's mind and forces him to look up. Adam looks through him.  
And then all he sees is a hand raising, the floor under his feet as he's shoved outside the house, the feeling of steel against his ear, static, static, static. The metallic tang of blood in his mouth and that familiar nothingness which is running through him. Blue lights and police sirens.  
He wakes up in a hospital the next day, half deaf and utterly alone.

Blue offers her house for him to live in. He accepts, but only till he can find his own place. He can barely stand the way she keeps looking at him from the corner of her eye, when she thinks he's unaware. Can barely stand the worry and care, as if he's someone to care about, in her eyes. Every gesture, atleast for a few weeks is laced with concern. He can't help but hate it.

He knows she loves him, he's her best and favourite friend but he's so angry that it taints everything in his life. Angry that his deaf ear no longer accepts any sound, that sometimes even a slightly raised voice induces such sharp ringing that he wants to lay down and not get up again. He's missing work and the paychecks that come with it.  
He's worried about how he'll eat the next month and Blue's pestering, unending concern for him is starting to make him _feel_. He can't afford that either.

He moves into an apartment above a church, after seeing an ad for it in the newspaper. It's tiny, extremely so. Its woodboard floors creak every time he walks to his threadbare mattress. It has a desk with a lamp. The small fridge barely has any food. The shower swings between freezing cold and burning hot.

He has to get another job, but Adam is nothing if not resilient. He tries to push his father, his mother, his pathetic fucking childhood into a box and buries it deep inside his head. Sometimes, when he's unbearably alone and that particular set of memories inevitably unravels, his stomach drops, his eyes water, his head spins and his heart beats faster than it ever has. Panic seeps into his brain and heart and lungs and telling himself he's safe doesn't fucking help.  
It's good that he has two jobs, it doesn't leave any time for him to think.

He works his ass off at school, straight A's on every report card, a perfect score on every test.  
A normal schedule for Adam looks something like this: school from 7:30am-2pm, then he's at Boyd's Mechanics for the next four hours, fixing cars because he can't fix himself. He goes home, studies till he has to leave again for his shift in the supermarket at 10pm. He usually comes home by midnight and repeats this endless, shitty cycle of studying and working again and again, till sleep finally consumes him.

He's getting out of here, even if it kills him.

#

The mirror at Boyd's garage is also cracked. It opens up his barely scabbed wounds. His stomach is acid.  
He blinks. Takes a bite of his sandwich. Gets back to work.

#

Ronan's dead father's face flashes across his eyes every minute. No matter how much he drinks, how hard his foot grinds against the accelerator, no matter how loud his music is, how hard the tattoo needle digs into his skin.  
His father's crumpled, blood stained face is always there, in the corner of his mind and heart, ready to fuck things up. It sneaks up on him, an unreliable participant in the game of peek a boo, surprising and destroying Ronan when he least expects it. He hates that it's the last memory of his father.  
But there's nothing he can do about it.  
So he punches things and hurts people because sometimes something which is not him needs to fucking hurt too.

There's some moments of relief though, when he bumps his fist against Gansey's, when Matthew's smiling face is directed towards him, when the music is perfectly aligned with the speed of his car, that's when the torrent of memories of his dad's smile and laugh pause and let him forget. When forgetting his father's death is as easy as shrugging off a coat.  
  
The first time Ronan Lynch sees Adam Parrish, it's one of those moments.

Gansey's offendingly orange Camaro was acting like a snowboard released on a slope. It had skidded across a thankfully deserted road, refusing to stop when the brakes were applied.

Gansey is in school and Ronan clings to any reason he doesn't have to be there.  
Fixing Gansey's car pleases them both.

"Uneven tyre wear," is the what the mechanic tells him. The mechanic whose hands Ronan can't stop noticing.  
"How long will it take to fix?" he asks roughly, because anything else would have given him away as easily as a match against paper.  
"Two days maybe three, I have to recheck all the tyres, change them if it's too bad."  
Ronan nods, fists clenching in his pockets.

"It won't cost a lot," the mechanic says, Ronan is already tired of not knowing his name.  
"That's not a problem."  
And he feels the boy's eyes flicking over him. Taking in the leather jacket and the whispers of a tattoo near his neck.  
"Of course it's not," he says and Ronan bristles.  
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"  
And god the boy whose name he wants to know looks startled, the way Ronan feels when he's said something without thinking and Ronan relishes the tinge of pink which seeps into this boy's cheeks, even if it's on his behalf.  
"Nothing."

Ronan pays the cash upfront. He sees how deft fingers move across the receipt as he asks Ronan for his contact information.  
"Name?"  
"Ronan Lynch," he replies.

And Ronan knows exactly what possesses him to ask, "Yours?"  
He regrets it as soon as it's out. Feels the vines of dread and anxiety curl up inside his neck and seep into his mou-  
"Adam."  
And that's all there is.

#

Adam knows who Ronan Lynch is, of course he does.

#

Time is glass. It cuts him everyday. He's sitting in his room, door shut. Darkness engulfs it.  
Ronan's in the centre of it all as he lies on his bed staring at the ceiling. There's a clock Gansey has put in his room, since Ronan refuses to wear a watch or check his phone. Its incessant ticking is the only sound in the room. Ronan wants to smash it against a wall.

There's such a tragic stillness permeating everything right now. A stillness Ronan hates. He's a man of action and punches and fast speedometers. Time doesn't bind him. Or so he wants to think. He lies a lot to himself these days.

There's a knock at his door and then it's being pushed open. Light steps inside with Gansey.  
"Let's go," he's saying. Ronan doesn't know where and he doesn't particularly care but he follows as always.

He's back in Gansey's car again. The car which Adam fixed although he wasn't there when Ronan went to pick it up. He doesn't allow himself to think about this but sometimes when he closes his eyes, Adam's hands flash like a photograph. Ronan hates this feeling. This inevitability of a crush. Of liking someone and thinking about them constantly like a broken record. He hates it. Hates that he knows it's never gonna happen but his mind and heart keep betraying him.

Ronan can't ever remember thinking he was straight. That girls, with their softness and curves were something he would ever want.  
This part of him doesn't make a difference to him. It's who he is. Not liking it would be like hating his own hand or leg.  
Looking at Gansey, he feels this secret like a physical weight sitting inside his chest.  
It's begging to be released from where it lies, right below that spot in his throat.

 _Tell him tell him he won't care it's Gansey,_ his mind keeps whispering.

But that's exactly the problem, isn't it?

It's _Gansey_. If he does care, it would ruin Ronan. And he can't live with that.  
So he just looks away.

They're at the field again. This vast expanse of green a mile or so outside Henrietta. Wind blows through the grass. Gansey's glasses rest low on his nose. If this was a movie there'd be a shot of them leaning against the Camaro, staring at the field, blissfully alone.  
There'd be a shot of Gansey's thoughtful eyes aimed at Ronan's and Ronan's sharp, covert ones looking at anything but him.  
Gansey flashes him a smile so bright and genuine it hurts, it alights the field, "Excelsior", he says.

And that's all there is.

#

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have referenced a few lines from the original books cos I can't produce such perfect-ness.
> 
> If you have any help for me/constructive criticism feel free to comment!! I honestly am not sure where I'm going with this fic but I just needed this to fly out of its nest tbh.  
> Thank you so much for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

There's a letter in Adam's hand bearing Yale's seal. It has his name on it. He has already received acceptance letters from two safety schools and was put on a waitlist for a third. But this was the main one, Yale had been his first choice.  
His hands are shaking and he can't tear his eyes away from the letter.  
He knows, theoretically, a yes or a no whichever it is, he'll deal with it, but his fucked up mind isn't ready to listen.  
He doesn't know how or when time stretches away from him because he's in his car and then he's knocking on Blue's door.

Her eyes flick to the letter and the seal and then he's following her to the swing in the backyard.  
It feels right somehow, no matter what the result of the letter is, to do it here.  
They sit in silence for maybe ten seconds before Blue tells him, "I swear if you don't open it, I will."  
So he hands it to her because fear of rejection of not only him but of everything he's done to deserve this for the past few years is clawing him raw.  
There's the sound of a seal tearing, of paper being drawn from an envelope and then, "You got in, Adam," she says, eyes scanning over the rest of the letter.  
"Full ride?" he asks, because this is the most important question. He can't apply for financial aid without his parents' consent and he doesn't have time for emancipation.  
"Full ride."  
And he's leaning back into the swing, bars digging into his back as he tries to fight off the lump in his throat and Blue's tugging at his shoulder till he hugs her. The pressure of arms and the words, "I'm so fucking proud of you, Adam", almost undoes him like a knot pulled free. He got in, full ride.  
Relief is flooding through his veins and for the first time in a long time, Adam feels something akin to joy.

There's a celebration of course. There's Maura embracing Adam like his mother should've; there's Calla telling him, "Good job, Coca-Cola" because of that shirt he wore when he met her for the first time; there's a glass of wine poured for both him and Blue because he got into fucking Yale; there's a part of Adam's history buried in this house and he's so grateful for it.

They are in her tiny bedroom, leaning against the bed, feet stretched out in front of them. Blue's head is resting on his shoulder.

"Have you decided your major yet?," Adam asks her. He thinks that one glass of wine has gotten them both drunk. Blue had been accepted to the University of Virginia just a few days ago. It was far enough for her to leave and have her independence but close enough that she could come back when she wanted.  
"I don't know. Not everyone's got their life figured out, Adam."  
A beat of silence.  
"I think I'd like to design," she says.  
"I think you'd be brilliant at it."  
And she would. Her dresses were weird but unique, they had a life of their own. They were usually made from fabrics Blue found around the house, bits of curtains and tablecloths all stitched together to make something magnificent. They embodied everything Blue was.

"When your career as a rich lawyer takes off don't you dare forget me," she says into the silence.   
"I'll just buy more friends with all of my money. Probably won't even notice you're gone."  
"I'll castrate you. We'll see how you like living as a eunuch."  
"A _rich_ eunuch."

And they're grinning at each other and Adam feels this _thing_ in his hear-  
"I'll miss you, Blue."  
"Of course you will, there's no one like me."  
And Blue's looking at him with her blazing eyes, smiling. Blue who fought with her mother because she'd told her to stop having so much yoghurt; who had staged a protest against their school for having a dress code for girls. What would he do without her? She removed her hair clips a while ago and her hair looks just as wild as her in this moment.

Blue, who cried more than him when she found out about his ear and held his hand the whole night when he came back from the hospital, refusing to leave his side.

"No, there isn't," he says and closes his eyes.

#

Time goes on and so does his grief. It doesn't get easier, people are fucking liars. It feels like adding stones to an already sinking bag.  
His mother is crumbling. Everyday he can see parts of her chip away.  
Aurora Lynch used to be a beacon of happiness, of everything good Ronan ever saw in the world. Now she's a light turned off.

There are times when he can see her having those Moments of Relief, as he's taken to calling them.  
Maybe when Matthew simply exists in her orbit or when Ronan smiles at her or when Declan, of all people, hugs her.  
Then just as quick, her face falls and it seems as though a weight has seeped into her shoulders as she remembers how every child of hers looks like a different version of Niall. Ronan can't stand it. The way his mother can't meet his eyes sometimes because she just can't fucking bear it. The way she goes silent sometimes for hours on end, shutting down, folding into herself.  
He hates it.  
She's supposed to be the adult, not him. She was supposed to tell them all that they'd get through this. That this pain and sorrow would stop hurting so much all the damn time. But she doesn't because she hasn't figured it out for herself yet. It seems to Ronan as though she's no longer a person, as though there's only a part of her left here that's not buried alongside with Niall. He wants to shake her awake sometimes. Grab her shoulders and make her look at her three living sons and tell her _we're still here_.

The anger he sometimes feels towards her makes him hate himself so intensely he wants to set everything on fire.

#

Ronan remembers the day it happened so clearly it's like a film playing behind his eyelids. He watches it over and over, every single day.

He was coming back from school when he saw it. Saw the silhouette of his father in a pool of his own blood.  
He remembers the horrible stench of iron and the tears streaming down his cheeks as he cradled his father's head in his lap. He remembers his mother's screams resounding through the sky and the whole world when she came outside, the sound of Paul Anka playing from the living room seamlessly muffled.

Declan, who immediately pushed Matthew back inside the house and told him to stay there so fiercely even Ronan would've obeyed. Declan, who called the cops and then pried Ronan's hands off their father, off the person they had both loved since the beginning of their lives. It was Declan who pushed him in the shower to get the blood off him and scrubbed him clean and held his shaking hands and hugged him so tightly, whispering, "You're okay, Ronan. It's going to be okay," again and again in his ear as Ronan's body shook with tremors because the world as he knew it was over.

Declan, who transformed from a teenager to an adult in the blink of an eye, the only one who wasn't allowed to have the time to grieve because of funeral arrangements and wills and brothers.

Ronan wears his grief as the tattoo on his back and the alcohol on his breath, Declan's buried his so deep Ronan isn't even sure it exists. He doesn't know which is worse.

#

Life doesn't get better at Yale. It just goes on.

He's still working at a coffee shop nearby, earning minimum wage because a scholarship student still has to pay for books and clothes and food. His roommate, Raj, is one of the few people he's had a proper conversation with. He eats alone because he doesn't know anyone and he doesn't know where to start.

He goes to a party once which Raj invites him to. He kisses a pretty girl, takes his first sip of alcohol and  hates all of it. All the loud music and lack of control.  
It feels like he's looking at these people who are his age, dancing and drinking and being so free and loose with each other, through a curtain.  
All these people who don't need to think about every fucking decision they make because they have the novelty of being young and stupid.  
Adam can't bring himself to do the same. 

He's not as alive as them in so many ways it aches.

He of course knows that there are people like him at Yale- people with a shitty childhood and shitty parents. He knows that he's not the only one affected by terrible, shitty things, but he feels no comfort in this. Everyone's pain is their own, no matter how similarly inflicted.

After that, whenever Raj invites him to a party Adam declines and buries his nose in demography or Jane Austen because he can't break his habits, no matter how hard he tries.  
Raj stops asking after a while.

Adam expected Yale to transform him from who he was to who he wanted to he. He expected to change into an Adam who was effortlessly cool and got along with everyone and was not so achingly tired.  
He expected to become everything he's not. He's never failed at anything this badly.

He has to go home for winter break because dorms will be closed.  
"You're living with me," Blue decidedly tells him over the phone.  
"I can't."  
"Why not?"  
"It's almost 30 days, Blue."  
"I still fail to see the objection to a 30 day sleepover."  
"I don't want to impose," he says, because she has a big family and traditions which don't include him.  
"Where will you be staying then?"  
"My old apartment. The landlady said I could rent it for a month."  
"So you'd literally pay not to live with me?"  
"You know it's not that simple."  
"You know it is."

What he can't bring himself to tell her is this: he has nothing to give her in return. He'd be living at her house free of charge, meals Maura won't let him pay for, amenities he hasn't worked his ass off for. Even after everything he's accomplished Adam can't let himself have this.

"For once, just for once in your stubborn ass life, let me do something for you," she says over the phone.  
"You've done so much already Blue, you don't even know."  
"So have you, Adam."  
He shuts his eyes. He can't refuse Blue when she's like this. When she makes him feel worthy.  
"It's not a contest to see who can do more. You're my fucking friend. There's no tally here. That's not how this works and you know it." she says, angry now. Adam doesn't want to fight.  
"Okay," he says tiredly, trying to hold off the happiness that always comes with Blue, "I'll stay."  
"Now how hard was that, you idiot?"

#

Adam doesn't expect Boyd to greet him the way he does. With a wide smile and a pat on the back and a few jests about how he is one of the "big people" now. It makes Adam unbelievably happy. This is his town, no matter how much his parents taint it. These are his people.

Adam's back at his old job the next day. He loves it. Loves the familiarity and the return to routine. Loves that he knows everyone there and that they know him too. Loves the quite and calm that comes with fixing cars and the satisfaction thrumming through him when he hears an engine roar.  
He's almost glad to see the orange Camaro again.

"How can I help you?" he asks Ronan Lynch, with his leather bands and ripped jeans.

Every newspaper agency in Henriette had a field day almost a year and a half ago when news of Niall Lynch's death broke. Adam was still living at his parents house at the time and remembers meanly wishing it had been his father instead of Ronan's.

"Oil change," is all Ronan says.  
"20 minutes. You can wait inside."

Ronan just leans against the wall. Adam gets to work.  
"You're back," he hears Ronan say.  
"What?" he asks, surprised, because he doesn't expect Ronan Lynch to note his absence.  
Ronan shrugs, so fucking casual.  
"You weren't there the last few times I was here."  
"How many times does this car need to be fixed?"  
"As many as it can take."

"I was at college," Adam tells him after a few minutes of silence, "Connecticut."  
"Cool. Which one?," Ronan says, Adam didn't expect him to make small talk either, he learns something new everyday.  
"Yale," Adam says, proud as always when he has to answer this question. He's worked damn hard to make that his answer.  
He sees a hitch in one of Ronan's eyebrows and he doesn't know if it pleases him or angers him.

It takes him five more minutes to change the oil, he can do it with his eyes closed. He shuts the hood, running a hand over the offending orange. He would also fix this car as many times as he had to.  
"All done," he tells Ronan, who's still leaning against the wall this time with his leather bracelets in his mouth.

"Are you free tomorrow?" Ronan says, dislodging the bracelets.  
"Why?" Adam says wearily. It's not everyday a stranger asks him this.  
"Exploring," Ronan tells him as if that one word can placate all of his doubts.  
"My friend will be there too."  
Adam thinks that something's very wrong with him because he can't believe he's only one part skeptical and three parts intrigued.  
"Can I bring a friend?" Why is he going along with this?  
Ronan just fucking shrugs again which Adam interprets as a yes.  
"I'll come pick you up here."  
Maybe it's because Adam has no friends except Blue and Yale is exceptionally disappointing. Maybe because it's Ronan Lynch who's asking him this, as if he wants Adam there. Maybe it's because he's so fucking drained and can't remember the last time he had fun. Maybe it's because Adam is a fucking fool. Adam hasn't figured it out yet but Ronan is taking his silence as acceptance and Adam isn't doing anything to dissuade him.

Ronan's leaving when Adam regains some form of common sense.  
"You don't want to murder me, right?" he asks and immediately wonders if that phrasing is appropriate.  
Ronan smiles and something in Adam's brain short circuits.  
"I'll be here with my machete at 2."

#


	3. Chapter 3

Ronan never shows. He waits outside Boyd's for another ten minutes before he makes his way back in. He should've expected this, should've fucking known but he keeps finding ways to disappoint himself.  
  
He tries to focus on the bright side as all self help books and articles he's read on the internet tell him to. Atleast he doesn't have to call Blue right now and tell her Ronan bailed. As much she wanted to meet the " _explorers_ ", air quotes implied, she'd already agreed to take a shift at their local diner, Nino's. 

There are several other possibilities he considers. Maybe Ronan forgot. Or he got caught up in something important. He tries to make himself believe it's any of the above reasons and not a particular lack in Adam which has resulted in a particular lack of Ronan.

He tries to get out of his well of self pity by employing his usual tactic: work. Boyd allows him to continue his shift. And he works, because that's all he has.

It's almost dark when he returns to Blue's house as he parks his shitty car close-by and opens the front door with the key she gave him. It scares him sometimes, how much she trusts him.  
He goes to the spare room they cleared for him and removes his textbooks to study. Going to Yale makes sure there's always more things to read and essays to submit.

He doesn't look up from his books when Blue enters his room and lays down on his temporary bed.  
"How was it?" she asks, and he can hear the exhaustion pouring off her after working for almost five hours straight. His heart aches.  
"He didn't show."  
"Are you fucking with me?" and all the exhaustion is swiped under the rug, just for him.  
"No," and he leaves his desk and lies next to her on the bed.  
Even though Blue's tiny, they both barely manage to fit.  
"It's okay," he says, trying to comfort himself and her, "I don't even care."  
"What an _asshole_."

"How was your day?"  
She turns to towards him, presses her head against his arm.  
"Someone thought I was a prostitute."  
And now it's his turn to say _what the fuck_.  
"Yeah. He was surprisingly apologetic afterwards."  
"So you didn't tear him to shreds?"  
"Oh I did," he can feel her smile, "he almost cried."

#

"Is Adam here?" he asks the man who is wearing a cap with " _Boyd's_ " stitched on it. He usually would've parked directly in the garage but as he doesn't have a car to be fixed this time he has to go through the office.  
"Parrish?" the man asks and Ronan can feel the judgement roll off him as he takes in Ronan's appearance.  
Ronan nods although he isn't sure about Adam's last name but how many damn Adams can there be in one place anyways.  
"You want to get your car fixed?"  
"No," he says, blunt as usual and watches a furrow form between the man's eyebrows. Such a reaction is not unusual for Ronan.  
"He's out there," the man replies, pointing towards the single door, eyes already travelling back to his newspaper.

The tragedy of it all is that Ronan can't find him "out there". All he can see is three people working, who clearly aren't Adam.  
"Adam?" he asks, looking directly at the woman who's head jerked up when he walked in. She points a finger towards the end of the garage where a white Mitsubishi is parked.

He only sees legs on a creeper and when he kicks it he hears a quiet, " _Jesus_ ," muttered as Adam rolls out.  
Adam doesn't say anything to him just grabs a cloth to clean his grease stained hands.  
"How can I help you today?" Adam asks him, plastering his politest smile. Ronan hates it.  
"Can we talk?"  
If Gansey ever heard Ronan say these words he would combust.  
"Any issues with your car?" Adam says, still smiling.  
"No."  
"I'm at work," Adam tells him and finally the smile drops and he turns away. He lies back down on the creeper and half disappears. Ronan has to commend his technique, he knows how hard it is talking to people when they can see your face.  
"Come on," he says and nudges Adam's leg again.  
"Are you a child?" he hears. He doesn't dignify that with a response.

"My break's in fifteen," Adam sighs, when it's obvious Ronan isn't going to leave. Ronan kicks his leg in acknowledgement and goes outside.

" _What_ ," Adam says after he comes out, all fake politeness left inside, leaning against the windows of his BMW.  
"I'm sorry," Ronan says and wonders how long it's been since he's said that to anyone.  
"For what," everything is a statement with Adam, who's looking at anything but him.  
"For not showing up."  
"That was a week ago."  
"I know."  
"What makes you think I care?" and this time he looks Ronan right in the eyes.  
"I do," he finds himself saying.  
"Then why didn't you come?"  
Ronan sighs, wondering if he should lie, questioning again why he's here, why since the past week something resembling guilt and regret has been sitting low in his gut.

"I get too much in my head sometimes," he settles with the truth because that's the easiest. Because it's also the hardest. Because he couldn't get out of bed that day. This time he's the one who's pointedly looking at everything but Adam.  
"I'll be done in an hour," is the answer he gets.

Ronan watches him as he leaves.

#

When Adam comes out for the second time, it's in jeans instead of overalls and Ronan can't decide which one he prefers. Adam looks skeptical, as if he hadn't expected Ronan to wait.  
"What now?" Adam asks him.  
"Get in, obviously," and Ronan reaches across the seat to open the passenger door for him.  
Adam rests his hand against the door and looks at Ronan, all serious. Ronan rolls his eyes. Adam gets in.  
"Where are we going?" and Ronan can see his tense posture and sharp shoulders.  
"Exploring," Ronan says with a smile, all teeth.

#

"Why the fuck," Adam says, "would you want to go exploring in fucking winter?"  
To be fair, it really wasn't that chilly when they left but as the day passed it was somehow freezing.

What Ronan realises is this: the more agitated Adam Parrish gets, the more he swears.  
"Stop being melodramatic, Parrish."  
"How do you know my last name?" Adam asks, suspicion evident in his voice.   
"Magic," Ronan replies in a dramatic whisper.

They're in that part of the earth that can only be described as a meadow and Ronan swears a few miles of hiking will be worth it for what he wants to show Adam.  
"Boyd told you, didn't he," Adam figures and Ronan can see the cogs turning in his head, he's so fucking smart it's attractive. "He's the only one who calls me Parrish."  
Ronan doesn't reply which is enough of an answer.  
"If I fucking die in a fucking _meadow_  I will _find_ you, Lynch."  
"Oh so we're on a last name basis now?"  
Adam shoves him and Ronan can't remember being this happy.

#

"How old are you?"  
"Sixty-five."  
"Well you look it."  
"Fuck you," Ronan counters.  
He finds out Ronan's eighteen, same as him. He doesn't go to college because he'd rather choke himself and is currently unemployed.  
"You're lucky, you know. Most of us don't have the luxury of being unemployed," he tells Ronan.  
"Yes, I'm fully aware I'm a priveledged piece of shit."  
"Good to know you know."

"Atleast I'm self aware, does that make it better?"  
"Not really," Adam replies with a smile.

#

"When is this hike fucking ending?"  
"Once we get there."  
"I would've never figured that out myself."  
"Aren't you glad I'm here then?"  
"My heart fucking _sings_."

#

"We're here."  
"It only took us 25 years."  
It is kinda worth it though despite the fact that Adam's fingers are freezing. There's a small slope which they cross beyond which there's a lake and suddenly that's all that Adam can see. Miles and miles of blue surrounded by green. Adam can't imagine what this place might look like in spring. Maybe they can visit again, him and Ronan.  
"I didn't even know we had lakes this big."  
"The water's probably cold as fuck."  
"Well, so am I."  
"Christ it's not even that cold."  
"That's such elitist bullshit, I can't believe you just said that," because he somehow knows Ronan will laugh. He's not disappointed. 

Ronan sits down on the grass, Adam follows. He spends a minute looking at the scenery, trying to memorize it, trying to frame it in his mind so that he knows that places like this can exist while there's places like the trailer house he lived in.  
He looks over at Ronan then, who's leaning back on his hands. Strong jaw, sharp eyebrows. Every surface an edge.

"I've read the articles, you know," he says into the silence, "About your father, I'm sorry."  
"He was more than a fucking article," Ronan replies, standing up and the moment's broken.   
The walk back is silent. Ronan's shoulders are hunched and all Adam wants to do is reach out.

They're back in the car when Adam says, "I'm deaf in my left ear."  
"What?" and Adam feels the car speed up.  
"Deaf meaning I'm unable to hear sou-"  
"I know what it fucking means."  
"I know," and Adam's suddenly tired.  
"How?"  
"My house wasn't a very safe place."  
Adam sees Ronan's hands tighten on the steering wheel, eyes practised ahead. Sees the way Ronan stops himself from saying something.  
"Did you get out?" because it's the only question that matters and Adam dips his chin to say _yes_.

"Why are you telling me this?"  
"Because it isn't fair."  
"What isn't?"  
"The fact that I know something horribly personal about you and you know nothing about me."  
"Thanks, for telling me."  
"It's not a big deal."  
"Sort of is, Adam," and something in the way Ronan says his name makes him want to break apart and cry, but he can't do that. So he presses his forehead against the window till it hurts.

#

They return to the garage because that's where his car is parked.  
"Please don't tell me that shit box is your car."  
"Don't you say another word about her."

Ronan parks and the sky is pink.

"I can't believe this," Ronan says.  
"What?"  
"I forgot my machete."  
"Get it next time, then."  
"Yeah?" Ronan asks with a smile, and Adam has to look away.  
"Yeah."

#

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's not that angsty cos they fucking deserve some happy time. Ik ik this is terribly OOC and idk what to do about it. Sorry if dialogue's not your thing but apparently that's the only thing my brain wants to supply at 3am. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this garbage!!!!


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